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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25370338">ice is hot too</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magali_Dragon/pseuds/Magali_Dragon'>Magali_Dragon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>fire and ice and everything nice [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Escorts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Car Sex, Dany on top always, Day 4: Fire and Ice, Desk Sex, Digital Art, Escort!Jon, F/M, Jonerys Week, Jonerys Week 2020, Jonerys fanart, Madam!Dany, NSFW Art, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in a Car, and manwhore Robb, dragon_and_direwolf artwork now added!, little bit of Dom!dany, little bit of Dom!jon, now with chapter two, this is just sex and maybe some dialogue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:47:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25370338</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magali_Dragon/pseuds/Magali_Dragon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Daenerys Targaryen is in the business of giving women the pleasure they deserve, but Jon Snow is the only escort in her company to protest his Rather icy treatment. When he challenges her why, fire consumes them both and truths are revealed.</p><p>For Jonerys Week 2020/Dream of Spring, Day 4: Fire and Ice</p><p>**Bonus Chapter Added**</p><p>**Check out chapter 3 for some spicy artwork**</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>fire and ice and everything nice [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911625</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>671</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. ice is hot too</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Daenerys Targaryen is in the business of giving women the pleasure they deserve, but Jon Snow is the only escort in her company to protest his Rather icy treatment. When he challenges her why, fire consumes them both and truths are revealed.</p><p>For Jonerys Week 2020/Dream of Spring, Day 4: Fire and Ice</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wanted to do something like this for awhile since I made the moodboard ages ago.  I love that photo shoot of Emilia so much.  Here it is!  No plot just porn.  Probably not very good smut but oh well!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>Daenerys stood in front of the two-way mirror, peering down from her office, watching the movements of the crowd below her. They had no idea that behind the artfully decorated "mirrors" that spanned the side wall of her office stood the woman who was responsible for their pleasure, their inebriation, and their increasingly empty wallets. The women who danced on the stage— tasteful, artistic—were in control of their bodies, their future, and took zero shit from anyone who dared to lay hands on them. Unless they wanted it. She allowed them to do whatever they felt like, so long as it was on their own time.</p><p>She used to be one of them. Someone who started off rough, on the streets, doing what she had to do to survive. It put her in rough places, dark places, and she pulled herself out of that dark hole, got back what she had lost, and her empire flourished. The men who dared to harm her were long gone. She'd taken their money along with their balls. One of her accountants joked she had them bronzed and mounted somewhere in her dragon's lair. She only smiled when he said this, replied back with the same comment, each and every time: <em>"Why bronze the balls when you could just burn them?"</em></p><p>Her fingers twisted along the silver necklace she wore, the tiny dragon charm the only carry over from her previous existence. She had her other arm crossed over her stomach, scanning the crowd of men who were lying to their wives about their location, the young ones who were in awe of the dancers on the stage, and the women who were there to watch and experience the fabulous world of burlesque. She pursed her lips, crimson and bright, popping out from her pale face, where her bright violet eyes swept along, searching the mass for the one she wanted.</p><p>Her lips twitched, recognizing him. He'd entered through one of the back doors, was moving around the crowd, hugging the edge of the room. <em>Such a wolf.</em> She kept her eyes on him until he disappeared behind the bar, out of her sight. She turned away, striding towards the wardrobe in the corner of the expansive, luxurious office. The fine silk carpets muffled the click of her stiletto heels— six-inches—which still did not place her near the average height of the men she dominated daily. The gray designer suit she wore tailored perfectly to her figure—petite and curvy—the jacket flaring slightly with her hips, pants snug at her thighs and falling to her ankles where they were a little loose, giving her the impression she was considerably taller than she was. Instead of a shirt beneath the jacket, she wore a lacy bralette, black and delicate, her only true concession to femininity in her dress.</p><p>The silver hair that was her most defining feature coiled in a sleek braided bun at the nape of her neck. She glanced at herself in the mirror on the inner door of the wardrobe, satisfied, not a hair out of place. She was as cold as ice, the great irony as deep inside her chest beat the heart of a dragon.</p><p>The dragon charm on her neck lifted gently with the rise and fall of her chest. She steeled herself, a frozen mask in place, walking towards her desk, perfectly timed with the soft buzz of the intercom. A perfectly manicured nail—pale pink so as not to distract—pressed on the button. "<em>Kessa</em>?" she asked, in Valyrian. She knew who was on the other side of the door but pretending made it fun.</p><p>Coolly, Missandei’s soft voice in Valyrian came through the speaker. The woman was her right-hand, far more than just a personal assistant, she was also her dragon at the gates. "Mr. Snow is here to see you," she said.</p><p>"Send him in please."</p><p>The door buzzed, pushing open, and her white wolf appeared. She barely glanced at him, sauntering across the office to the wet bar on the sideboard, her hand gesturing slightly. "Can I get you a drink?" She reached for a whiskey tumbler, knowing his preferred brand; she always kept it stocked special for him. Not that he made a lot of visits to her den here. To be honest, she knew he tended to avoid visiting her in person. Only her imagination could suppose the reasons why. Her skin pebbled in his presence, little hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Her body responded in certain ways to him, whether she wanted it to or not. Daenerys had schooled herself in many ways; all that discipline evaporated when he entered the room. She pushed it out of her mind; she knew why he was here today.</p><p>He growled, low in the back of his throat, Northern burr thick. "Not here for social visit Daenerys."</p><p>She purred. "Dany, please, we've known each other so long."</p><p>"This is business."</p><p>"Isn't everything?" she challenged. She turned, a glass in each hand. She passed his to him; his manners were too impeccable for him not to take it. He did, with a nod thank you, even if all he wanted was to start roaring at her. It was another amusing irony she loved; her white wolf, born in the cold, icy North, his entire persona that of someone who was closed off, cold even, and yet she knew the truth. He could breathe fire too. It was simmering there, under his honorable, chilly, aloof exterior. He was gruff and rather abrasive. She sipped her whiskey, peering at him through her thick dark lashes.</p><p>Today he wore a pair of pitch-black jeans that could have been painted on. A crisp black shirt underneath a battered leather jacket. Black boots with the jeans cuffed just above the ankle. Everything was effortless, he could have spent thousands of dollars on the entire ensemble, but she knew each and every item he wore he'd likely had since secondary school. It was part of his charm. It was part of why she hired him. That whole "Northern boy" character was a good sell.</p><p>She had a couple Northerners on her roster—Robb Stark brought him to her in the first place, they were cousins. Robb was one of her highest earners. There was Theon, who hailed from the Iron islands, but spent most of his childhood in the North and had adopted some of their mannerisms and even a bit of the accent. She studied her wolf, his raven black curls pulled from his face into a knot at the back of his neck, similar to her, except while hers was elegant, his was messy, utilitarian.</p><p>The gray eyes so unique to him were dark, his pupils dilated in the dim light of her office. The old-fashioned oil lamps were electric but cast the otherworldly glow she preferred. She liked her den to be dark, it made it easier to see out into the club. Gave her an edge. Disarmed people. It was why the walls were deep gray, like old charcoal, and the furniture a pale gray leather. Save for her desk, which was dragonglass, shiny and onyx, harder than steel.</p><p>Just like her.</p><p>As cold as ice, she thought, staring at the angry eyes of her wolf. He hadn't taken a sip of his whiskey, but she sipped hers again, amused. She swallowed the silky amber liquid, eyebrows lifting. "I haven't poisoned it, if that's what you think."</p><p>His lip curled; his beard was trimmed, dark as his hair, and his narrow face pale underneath. "No, you wouldn't poison, you would burn."</p><p>"Naturally."</p><p>"Which is why I thought it odd when I looked at my contract renewal."</p><p>She lifted her brows, feigning surprise. "Was there a problem?"</p><p>His knuckles whitened on the tumbler. She tried not to imagine what it would feel like with those fingers clenching around her— arms, legs, even her throat. Her nostrils flared at the prospect, but she kept her face school, stony. As icy as his. She could play the same game.</p><p>"You know damn well there was a problem," he snapped. He threw back the whiskey, throat bobbing with his gulp, and he dropped the glass loudly from his fingertips onto one of the antique wooden end tables near her little sitting area. She tutted under her breath, reminding him to be nice, but he ignored her sound, stomping straight into her personal space. So close she could smell the pine, mint, and ashy scent of him, the scent that breathed <em>Jon Snow</em> whenever she inhaled it.</p><p>Her eyes darkened; matching his. "Be very careful Jon Snow, "she warned.</p><p>"Or what? You wouldn't burn me."</p><p>She licked her lips, dropping her gaze to his; they were pouty and dusky pink. She rubbed her thighs together as delicately as she could, staving off her desire. "There's always a first time for everything."</p><p>"Clearly. From what I understand I’m the only one you bothered locking in with that damn clause."</p><p>A careless hand waved away his concern. “You’re angry about that?”</p><p>“Fuck yes I am.”</p><p>"I was under the impression you did not want to sleep with your clients?"</p><p>He huffed. "I don't!"</p><p>He was frustrated, hand diving into an inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out the blue-backed document she knew to be the contract her lawyer had sent over to him for his signature earlier that day. It was standard form, what she gave to all her boys. They were free to negotiate their terms, their rates, but they had to agree to hers as well. Every one of them had a contract, unique to them, outlining their rights as well as hers. She operated many lucrative businesses and being in the female empowerment industry, she was happy to provide a group of very talented, handsome, and polite men for women to contract for their particular needs. Companionship, social outings, the occasional fake boyfriend for family gatherings.</p><p>What the men did on their own time, that was their call, and she put it in the contract. They were all to undergo testing, but she would not be liable for whatever they did on their own time with the women. Legally and ethically. It was the same thing she put in the contracts for the women who called to book one of Daenerys's <em>dragons.</em> They weren't all dragons. She had wolves, a stag, a lion, and a variety of others. Couple Dothraki, few Astapori, Yunkish, and even Lyseni.</p><p>Daenerys Targaryen was mostly concerned with women's enjoyment in life, whether it be empowering them to take agency of their bodies, earn an education, have a family, or seek out a companion—women were busy, they had obligations that went beyond struggling to find someone to attend a work gala on their arm. Sometimes women just wanted things to be easy. Dany made them easy. They came to her, because she was discreet, female, and above all else, Daenerys Targaryen was the best. The price was steep, but you got what you paid for.</p><p>All of Dany's boys were handsome in their own way, polite, educated, and everyone offered something unique to her clients. Robb Stark was best for those women who wanted to enjoy the outdoors, athletics and such. There was Jaime Lannister, who was best suited for gala events, where he could dazzle with his shiny blond hair and emerald green eyes. She had men who spoke multiple languages, knew how to dance, how to converse, and above all, were always deferential to the women. If the women wanted someone in charge, they could be in charge. If they wanted someone to follow their every word, they did so. If even one put one toe over the line, they were gone.</p><p>It had happened, but so few times Dany expected it would never happen again. No one knew where those men ended up. Hence the belief she truly did burn them alive.</p><p>She studied the man before her, leaning back now against her desk, her ankles crossed. She tapped her fingers on the side of her whiskey, one of her dark brows arching up, taking in his simmering rage, just beneath the surface. She tilted the crystal glass to her lips, allowing the slide of warm drink down her throat, where it hit her belly with a hiss. They could do this all day, squaring off against each other. It was entertainment for her, getting reactions out of the icy Jon Snow.</p><p><em>Jon Snow.</em> Sometimes she really did not know what to make of him. Or to make of her feelings for him, conflicted as they were. She pursed her lips, locking her violet gaze on his gray steel one, neither blinking. Waiting for the other to make the next move. They could be there for hours. She quirked her lip up, eyebrow lifting with it, challenging. This was the first time she would ever have this conversation with one of her boys.</p><p><em>A no-contact clause</em>. Written into his contract that he was not to have any sexual relations with any of the clients, on her time or his time. Forbidding him, essentially, from pursuing anything with the women he met while working for her.</p><p>Jon Snow was the only one she had ever dropped that clause on.</p><p>They did what they wanted on their time. They made sure they were off the clock if the women felt like taking them home for the evening, the weekend, and enjoying such pleasures the men wanted to provide. There was no obligation. If they did not want to join the women in bed, they did not have to, and the women could not use it as a complaint that they did not get what they paid for. Dany was very up front about that. She provided escorts, not whores. If the man wanted to be a whore when their time ended, that was in them. They just could not charge for it.  The arrangement worked very well.  Jon Snow, to her knowledge, had never followed through with a proposal to stay after his allotted time concluded.  Gods knew they offered.  </p><p>Jon came to her through his cousin. Robb suggested she meet with him. "Why do you think he would be a worthy acquisition?" she asked the auburn-haired, rather mischievous Northerner. He did not take the look of most, something that occasionally popped up when a woman requested someone from the North. usually it was an attraction to the accent. Robb had that in spades, but he took after his mother, he told her, from the Riverlands.</p><p>
  <em>"You want a Northerner? A real wolf? Seven hells, he's the real deal."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"And why would he want to work for me?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"He's bored, he likes a challenge. Just got out of the military, he's going to law school, and I think he needs the cash, honestly. He's got a kid."</em>
</p><p>That sold her on it, when Robb admitted that his cousin was a single father, left to care for his young daughter after the mother's untimely death in service. As part of his contract, she gave him an extra stipend for educational expenses for his daughter, in lieu of the usual clothing allowances and other extra perks the men got for being in her employ. Jon was a top earner; it was the sullen face, she figured, the constant melancholia surrounding him. Coupled with his roughness, his inability to bite his tongue and always say what he thought, which Robb called <em>honorable</em>, Jon called <em>not a bloody poet</em>, and she called <em>stupid</em>, every single woman in the Seven bloody Kingdoms clamored for him, stepping on each other to pay top dollar for his company.</p><p>To many of their disappointment, after some time, Dany started to only assign him the old ladies looking for a young man to spoil—Olenna Redwyne was his top client, she could get handsy, but usually just a swat on his rather fine, peachy arse as he walked out the door with a pound of her lemon cakes and several fancy flower arrangements she always made him help her with. There was also Brienne, who Jon went with to her strict stodgy family gatherings, even though she knew the woman was in love with Jaime. It was a shame, for Jaime was too full of himself and Dany did not want the poor woman to get hurt so she sent Jon with her instead. Jon would never take advantage of her like Jaime would. Dany had a way for these things. In some ways she considered herself a bit of a matchmaker. She matched women with pleasure, in whatever form that would be.</p><p>He'd never complained before; she got the impression he didn't mind it much, it saved him from embarrassingly turning down someone like Margaery Tyrell who was insatiable and demanding— she got an earful on that one— or gods forbid he went out with Dr. Mel, who had a penchant for fire and often terrorized her dates with cryptic prophecies. They claimed she was a witch, which Dany did not dispute, but she didn't judge.</p><p>Of all the men in her employ, Jon Snow was by far the most honorable. He would be an escort, but in terms that he could hold to his rather stringent moral values. Dany obliged; she liked the money he brought in, she liked what she could do with the money, and she also liked that some of it went right back into his pocket, to pay for his young daughter’s future.</p><p>And Dany liked him.  Or...she thought she might like him.  She liked the look of him.  There was something there.  Something inside his cool exterior that attracted her, bothered her, and she wanted to figure out.</p><p>She pursed her lips, trying not to smile. She played him perfectly. "You're upset."</p><p>He pushed the paper to her chest. Her heart lurched to her throat. He let his hand fall, skimming over the exposed skin of her collarbone. Calluses marred his hands, strong and thick fingers; hands of a man who did things his way. Her skin began to burn beneath it, like he’d set her on fire. She noticed the rapid beat of his pulse in his neck and tried not to smirk. He scowled. "Tell me what the seven hells this is about."</p><p>"It's a no contact clause."</p><p>"None of the others have it in their contracts."</p><p>"Well maybe they're lying." She chuckled. “They aren’t supposed to talk about their contracts. It creates jealousy.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes, smirking. “Why do you think they talk about it?”</p><p>“Always measuring yourselves, I should issue you rulers on your first day,” she replied sweetly.</p><p>It was never supposed to work for him; he was always going to get angry, even if he probably was somewhat relieved for the clause. Made his life easier when he did decline the women, she paired him with. Jeyne Poole and Allyria Dayne had been extremely upset, calling her at all hours when he declined their affections, complaining since they wanted him.</p><p>Except it also offended him too, which she had clearly judged accurately. Dany was an excellent judge of character.  He might agree with it but he was annoyed too.  He growled again, dark brows slamming together. "You're sticking a fucking leash on me! What I do in my own time..." He jabbed a finger at her, and his other hand planted on his hip, his boot moving almost to between her feet. He was still in her space, surrounding her, smothering her. She straightened her back, face smooth as glass. "It's none of your business what I do. That's the rule, always been the rule, so why change it now?"</p><p>She took the paper and set it behind her, placing the whiskey glass on it to keep it in place. Her fingers gripped the edge of the desk behind her and she cocked her head, tongue darting to lick her lips. This was fun. "Maybe I just want to make sure that you are legally obligated not to have contact with the clients."</p><p>He raged, shoulders shaking. If he were a wolf, his fur would be standing on end. She liked it, she liked this fire inside of him, she wished he would show it more often. He was always so cold, like ice. Unreadable, even when she knew he could get angry. Even when her blood sang for it, wanting to know what it was like when the wolf lost all control, when that fire in his heart finally burst free to burn hot, with no hope of extinguishing. “That is not your concern,” he murmured, his teeth grit.</p><p>“Maybe it is. Maybe I am just looking out for your best interests.”</p><p>A flicker of <em>something</em> she could not place crossed his face. It was hardly noticeable. No one else but her would have recognized it. The slightest flair of his nostrils, the extra bit of dilation in his pupils. His breath hitched, holding longer in his chest than necessary, before he exhaled. His coal eyes dropped to her lips. Her breasts lifting against the bralette, straining with her carefully measured breaths; breaths she was having a difficult time controlling, as close as he was to her. Mentally chastising herself, she tried to lean back, but she found she couldn’t.</p><p>In their arguing, he had caged her into the desk, his knees now on either side of hers, and her back bowed at the edge. Heat wafted off of him, the chill long burnt out. “No,” he suddenly whispered.</p><p>The contract sat untouched behind her. She gripped the edge of the desk hard, wondering how far this could go. “No?” she murmured, trying to avoid his lips. They were quite close to hers now. The scar curving around his right eye was darker than she thought; the one crossing over his left caused his brow to droop at the corner. This man was dark, dangerous, and it was a good thing she was prohibiting him from seeing any of her clients in a personal capacity, she convinced herself.</p><p><em>Lies</em>, a voice hissed into her ear.</p><p>Her body arched towards him, hips tilting to touch at his hard thighs, the muscles in his forearms quivering as he held himself over her. “Step back Jon Snow,” she murmured. He didn’t move. She hissed. “Move.”</p><p>“No,” he repeated. The curl of his lip pulled up, his eyes now black, a feral grin. “Daenerys Targaryen, you put that clause in there on purpose.”</p><p>“You get no extra money either way, if it is there or not.”</p><p>“Protecting me, you say?”</p><p>“Hmm, some of those women are predators.”</p><p>Now his brows lifted, almost to his hairline, and he rumbled, chuckling. “Aye, some of them are. Like you.”</p><p>“I am <em>not</em> like them.”</p><p>“No,” he said. Her heart jumped. “No you are not.”</p><p>And he dropped his face right over hers, the tip of his nose brushing hers; she held back the moan in her throat, longing to escape. Focusing on the present, she grounded herself, heels locked into the carpet and knuckles numb, fingers digging into the underside of the desk. <em>He smells so good.</em> This was pure man, dark and dangerous, and she was playing with fire. Her gasp released from her chest, breasts heaving, and her thighs pressed tight, the pressure between them agonizing, threatening to bring her to her knees.</p><p><em>I would not mind being on my knees for him.</em> Daenerys never did that for any man. She would do it for him though.</p><p>Their eyes locked again. It was a good thing she was a dragon, she thought, since she would get burned otherwise. Her mouth fell open, just in time for his lips to crush against hers, his groans swallowed up by hers. His lips were plush, soft, and yet firm, insistent, forcing hers apart. His tongue swept through her mouth, plundering. She gave him what he sought, her mouth hot against his, teeth tugging at his lower lip and groaning in response to his returned bites.</p><p>Their hands were suddenly everywhere; Dany felt her jacket fall off her shoulders, slipping to the floor and she fell backwards onto the desk, yanking him over top of her. The whiskey glass knocked over, spilling the leftover bit of it across the contract, which swept away as her arms swung up over her head, his hands pinning them above her head.</p><p><em>Oh gods</em>, she thought, he tasted like pure fire.  It was more than she had even imagined.</p><p>His body was iron hard, her soft, pliant form pinned between the desk and him. The painful throbbing in her cunt relieved barely with the grind of his hips into hers, his arousal prominent behind his jeans. She yearned to get her fingers beneath the waistband, to touch him and see if he was as glorious as she had imagined. Except her hands were pinned atop her head. She tugged against his bonds, mewling into his kisses. He let go and she grabbed for him, fumbling with his jacket, trying to get it off of his broad shoulders, but he’d pinned her so tight between him and the desk she could hardly move, could only submit herself to his whims.</p><p>Daenerys never let the male take the lead; she was always in charge. She thought she could have been with him, but he had taken total control of the situation. Her knee lifted towards her shoulder, stiletto digging into his arse, forcing him to break away from their angry, fervent kisses, brows pressed together. She chuckled. He hissed in pain, the sharp heel digging in deeper, reminding him where power lie. They tried to collect their breaths, but the need for each other was too strong, and overpowered them both. His mouth was hot, open and angry, biting and kissing down her neck, blooming pink from his beard and her nipples pebbling under the featherlight lace barely covering them.</p><p>“Oh yes,” she whined, her nails scratching through his hair, winding those wayward curls around her fingers, holding him to her as he suckled one hard, straining nipple through the lace. The contrast from his teasing tongue against the sensitive bud through the soft fabric choked her, eyes slamming shut. She tried to arch against him again, but he moved away, paying the same level of attention to the opposite nipple, his fingers rolling the other between them, rough and tugging.</p><p>The sound of the bralette ripping startled her, a blast of cold air hitting her bare chest, her tits wet from his ministrations, and she gasped, but he covered them again with his kisses, the heat of his body warming her again. The movement away from her gave her the opportunity to yank at his belt, nails scratching over the hard bulge of his erection beneath the denim. She bit down on his lower lip, copper flooding onto her tongue, and he groaned, thrusting into her palm. <br/>
<br/>
</p><p>They had both wanted this, it was years in the making, and now that it was finally happening, Dany wasn’t sure she could hold on, pressing harder to him, encouraging him to move so they could get each other undressed.</p><p>He helped her off the desk just long enough for him to yank down her trousers, where they pooled over the stilettos. She kicked them free and tore at his shirt, sending buttons scattering and the halves of it falling off his arms with a shrug, leaving him in his jeans and boots. She wanted to feel him, to get her hands around him, and even when he tried to stop her, to push her back onto the desk in nothing but her skimpy thong—she didn’t anticipate it being on long—to do whatever he was going to do to her, she managed to stop him, finally able to savor the heavy, velvet length in her palm, and she squeezed his cock gently in her hand.</p><p>“Fuck,” he gasped, and she grinned, pleased to have the upper hand once more. She kissed him, standing in her heels and fondling him, while his hands busied themselves—one squeezing her tit and the other diving down to the string of her panties, tugging with a grunt and sending the scrap of silk floating to the floor to join the rest of her clothes.</p><p>Dany’s cunt was dripping, her thighs damp and the pressure painful. It was completely worth it though, when she got her hand around him for the first time. She almost sobbed, the hot weight of him in her palm, thick and pulsing. Her thumb scraped over the tip, the head weeping already with precum. The hard callus of his hands skimmed over her sides, anticipation quivering through her, and her tongue sliding against his, mimicking the crude movement of her hand, wrist twisting as she tugged from the base of his shaft up to the tip, while her other hand fondled at his stones, squeezing gently.</p><p>He almost choked, seizing over her, and his eyes slammed shut, face twisting in pleasure. “Oh gods Dany,” he whispered, hoarse. <em>Dany</em>, she registered, <em>he’s never called me that before.</em></p><p>“Hmm…tell me Jon.” She purred. “What do you want?”</p><p>He couldn’t speak, her grip firm now. His fingers dug into her hips, bruising, holding her in place against the desk, but she didn’t react, waiting for his response. He groaned again, hips stuttering into her hand, wanting more from her, but she wouldn’t give it until he answered. She bit hard on his earlobe, whispering. “Jon, Jon Jon…you aren’t going to get what you want until you tell me. Now, I’m <em>ordering</em> you.” She growled. “What do you want?”</p><p>“Dany,” he hissed, her nails scratching at his sac again, rolling them in her palm. He pushed into her, but she stilled him, protest keening from his throat.</p><p>“That’s not an answer. You came in here, barging mind, and I will not give you want you want until you tell me.” She lightly kissed him. Her breasts rubbed to his bare chest, her nipples stiff and scraping over his, both groaning at the sensation. “I’m the boss, remember?” If it was possible, he grew harder in her hand, the display of power arousing. She chuckled. “Now…tell me.” She squeezed harder and he groaned, little catches in his throat, the hard planes of his chest rising and falling rapidly. She reached the hand not holding his cock around, nails piercing the hard muscle of his arse. “Tell me Jon!”</p><p>“Fuck, I want you Dany,” he almost sobbed out and she grinned, satisfied. His eyes sprang open when she took advantage of his surprise and dropped to her knees in front of him. His jeans weren’t even off fully and she was pleased to find he wasn’t wearing briefs. It gave her unfettered access to him as she pulled the denim down enough to free him entirely, her mouth watering in anticipation. He was lovely, thick and hard. Her cunt ached and she moved a hand down to touch lightly at her dripping slit, to slide along her swollen folds, enough to tease him, for when he caught sight of her, she heard the strangled moan and he grunted, hoarse, when she finally covered him with her mouth.</p><p>Dany didn’t suck dick, hadn’t since she took control of her life, stopped allowing men to use her as a play thing. She did it now because she wanted to see if he tasted as good as she thought, because she wanted to bring him pleasure. She was right to wait— he tasted wonderful and she hummed around him, excited.</p><p>She swallowed him almost entirely, taking him to the back of her throat and popped off just as quickly, laving at him, eyes lifting to meet his. He stared down at her, awed, as she touched herself, fingers shakily circling her clit, her hums of pleasure thrumming through his cock, his thighs trembling. He tasted divine, salty and male, her nose lightly pressing to the crease of his hip as she hollowed her cheeks, sucking on him as she twisted up and down. He thrust his hips into her, none too gently, and she moaned her approval.</p><p>The orgasm built in her, already close, desperate for his cock to fill her, but she wanted him to know who was in control here, and it was her. Until she wasn’t, gods damn him. Suddenly, her knees lifted from the floor and her mouth slipped off his cock, crying out, surprised at the swift movement. He hauled her up, lifted her clear off the ground. Her heels angrily clicked back against the desk when he flung her onto it, spreading her out for his hungry gaze.</p><p>Eyes black, he swept them from the top of her head down to her heels, her tits straining upwards and her legs spread obscenely wide. He pushed at her thigh roughly with one hand and with the other he took his cock and stroked it briefly. She trembled; he was in charge now. Her tongue dabbed at her lips, wet from her spit and his precum, and red from her ministrations. She carefully moved her thigh farther out, exposing more of herself to him. She glanced down, could see her cunt, shiny and puffy pink. His fingers slipped from her knee, down her inner thigh, and replaced hers, stroking along them, before he dipped one in through the slickness and then another.</p><p>Two wasn’t near enough, her pelvis grinding up into his hand. She grabbed at her knee, her other hand trying to support herself on the slippery desk, so she could watch his movements. “Jon,” she begged, circling her hips upwards, desperate.</p><p>He lined up his cock with her slit; she held her breath, waiting for the moment. There would be no gentleness here, no teasing, and she fully anticipated him to impale her on him, but he didn’t. No, instead he teased, lightly circling the tip over her entrance and then moving up to her clit, slicking back and forth, coating himself, while he played his fingers over her. She whimpered, head falling backwards, her sleek bun tousled, strands of it slipping over her shoulders.</p><p>“What do you want?” he demanded, repeating her words back to her.</p><p>She shook her head, anxious, from side to side. “Just give me it,” she said breathlessly, one hand going to squeeze her tit, to give herself something to feel other than the divine torture he inflicted on her.</p><p>“Now who isn’t listening?”</p><p>“Fucking bastard,” she growled.</p><p>He barked. “I am that.” He dropped his cock and fell over her, kneeling before her and covering her with his open mouth in one lewd lick of his tongue, from her cleft to her clit. She lurched upwards, grappling for something to hold, which turned out to be his hair, tearing at it as he began to suckle at her clit, his tongue slipping in and around the mess she’d already made, and his teeth nipping at her sensitive folds.  He was positively divine, alternating between her inner and outer lips, tracing his tongue along her entrance and up to clit.  She panted, repeatedly, the tension pulling and pulling taut inside of her.  "Oh gods," she mumbled, incoherent.  She swiveled her hips against his mouth, harder and harder, begging— and she never begged.  "More, oh more, please.  Yes...yes...Jon!"</p><p>And then suddenly everything inside of her just snapped. </p><p>The orgasm hit her faster than any she’d ever had in her life. It was like she slammed headfirst into a wall, going a hundred miles an hour. She bowed, her back arching off the desk, and her heels digging into his shoulders, leaving red grooves in the pale unmarked skin.  She sobbed out his name, over and over again. Blackness took her vision, an abyss of nothing, with the only sound her cries of him and the roaring in her ears. There were waves and waves afterward, fire consuming her, taking her with it, leaving her shuddering in its wake.</p><p>She hadn’t a moment to acclimate, to even open her eyes. She still vibrated from aftershocks, sensitive and twitching, when he hauled her off the desk and spun her around, pushing her across the office and she felt hard, cold glass underneath her sweat dampened skin, her cunt soaked, and tits flattened to the glass. Her eyes opened, peering down at the club, at the dancers on the stage, the music thudding through the two-way mirror into the room that was otherwise silent save for her gasping breath and his sharp inhales behind her.  He was so hard, he was about to lose control.  She smiled, chuckling low in the back of her throat, grateful she could bring him to that point. She wanted him to lose it, to become feral and angry. To see the fire.  She wanted to taunt him, to remind him she was the one in control, but she couldn't speak quite yet. He took full advantage of it.</p><p>One hand tightened around her throat, the other on her hip, and his cock slipped along the cleft of her ass. He rutted against her, mindless.  She moaned softly; it felt so good. “What do you want?” he murmured; his burr so thick she barely understood. He licked the shell of her ear.  He growled.“Tell me.”</p><p>“You.”</p><p>“Hmm, that’s obvious. What do you want me to do?”</p><p>She pulled all her energy forth, still shaking, her fingers unable to hold onto anything, so she dug them into the glass, rocking her hips back against his cock, satisfied when she heard his soft groan.  She slicked her mess along him, wanting to see his face.  To watch the agony twist there. “Fuck me,” she demanded. It was all she wanted right now. There would be another time—maybe—for slow, sweet, and all of that. Right now she wanted the fire, she wanted that wolf he claimed to be to take her. She turned her head, lips rubbing his, filthy and wanton. “Fuck me Jon.”</p><p>A primal cry sounded, a roar in her ear when he thrust into her, splitting her open, filling her completely. She sobbed, her cunt stretching around him, a slight pain from the sudden invasion, especially as sensitive as she was still. He was thick and iron hard, stilling for a moment so she could get used to him, but just for a moment. His fingers snaked up, to grab for hers, folding together and hitting the mirror, above her head. The other hand moved around her hips to feather his fingers over her cunt, tangling in the trim thatch of silver curls. He pushed his face into the crook of her shoulder, lapping at a droplet of sweat that fell from her hairline and his breath in hot, heavy puffs against her as he began to fuck her.  It was filthy, decadent even, his body scraping against hers, and their mingled grunts and pants filling her ears.  Her eyes were open, taking in the club beneath them, all dark and sinful, the music pulsing in time with his thrusts.</p><p>She was weightless. Her feet barely touched the ground, her stilettos the only hold she had with the earth. She stared ahead, at all the people below, oblivious to the animalistic coupling occurring just above them. It aroused her further, the notion they were the only ones with this dirty secret. "You like this, don't you?" he rumbled into her ear.  She nodded, excited. His palm rocked against her clit, pressing against it as she tightened around him, squeezing her inner muscles around his cock in retaliation.  He groaned.  "Fuck Dany."  To get back at her, or maybe because he could no longer stand it, he plunged into her, pulling almost out entirely before slamming into her again, the force pushing her up onto the window. </p><p>"Oh!" she cried.  She was getting closer, moving faster and faster to that point.  She started to move against him, mindless, desperate.  "Jon, make me come again.  I want to come again, please."</p><p>"Not until I say so."</p><p>She whined, protesting, but listened. The smooth expanse of his chest and belly rubbed against her back, friction heating her. He moved his hand from her cunt to grip her thigh, lifting it high onto the window, affording him more room. The angle changed, his cock stroking every inch of her cunt. His thighs smacked her arse with every punishing snap of his hips. “Harder,” she whimpered, wanting to feel him in every nerve ending, every muscle twitch.</p><p>Grunts and groans filled the office, the sinful sounds of their coupling joining in. He was toying with her; he kept bringing her to the edge and backing off.  Fingers would quicken, then slow.  His rhythm changed, sometimes he would piston into her so fast she was scared she'd crash through the window; then he'd slow, pulsing and hard staccato thrusts of his hips.  She hated him; he chuckled when he could sense her frustration, her groans of annoyance.  At one point, she squeezed around him again, so tight she locked him inside of her sheath, and he hesitated, moaning into her ear, lips breaking away from where he'd had them anchored to her neck.  She had him now. She closed her eyes tight, summoning all her energy, and when she felt him start to lose control, the pounding of him into her no longer as steady, she seized her moment and pushed her fingers hard against the glass, moving backwards, dislodging him.</p><p>Startled, he fell backwards, and she knocked him into the desk chair, grabbing the back of it and hoisting herself up.  Their eyes locked momentarily and she grinned, one hand going to his cock and holding it tight before she slammed herself onto him in one move.  He cried out, mouth falling open, eyes wide at the sensation and she cackled, releasing the top of the chair with one hand to grab his chin, yanking him up for a savage, dirty kiss, her hips swiveling into him, grinding up and down, her clit rubbing against his pelvic bone. “Yes,” she gasped, letting go of his face and grabbing the chair again, using it for leverage to fuck into him, everything a kaleidoscope of colors, her vision darkening on the edges.  "Oh gods, yes."  She eyed him, burning her violet eyes onto his gray ones, seeing the attraction there, how turned on he was by her seize of control. </p><p>It filled her, the fire, seeping from him and into her. It burned so hot it threatened to kill her. Except it was cold on the edges, it chilled her too. It felt so good, the best she’d felt in her entire life. His hands held her around her ribcage, lifting her up and slamming her back down with every push of her hips into his. His mouth worried her nipples, beard scratching the undersides as they bounced against him with her movements.</p><p>He broke away, tugging her down to his mouth, biting at her tongue. “You're still coming for me,” he ordered her, voice tight; he was holding off on his, waiting for her. The notion of that was what did it for her.</p><p>She nodded, panting breathlessly.  Fuck yes, she was going to come for him. “Yes, yes, I’m coming, oh gods…” Valyrian tumbled from her lips, her brain no longer connected to her body, nothing focusing. She felt it, bubbling up and then exploding forth again. It came harder than the last one, but lasted longer. The pleasure ripped her from her body, hurtling her down a fast-moving river, current pulling her straight under, and drowning her. Her wail kept coming, drawn from deep inside her heart where she had never allowed anyone else to reach. She dropped her arms from the top of the chair to wrap around him, holding him to her as she flew down that river. She shook in his arms, thighs quaking around his and squeezing at him still trapped inside of her, his hips erratically thrusting, until he was coming too, with a hoarse groan, stilling for a moment and then twitching inside of her, cock pulsing as he flooded her with his release, a few more weak pulses and he stilled, arms slackening around her to fall to her waist.</p><p>Neither one of them moved, bodies quivering with aftershocks, hearts racing, and breaths coming in heaving gulps. She did not want to let him go. It occurred to her, at some point, maybe when she came the first time. <em>This is different.</em> She dropped her forehead to his, silver hair curtaining their faces, and pushed back his sweaty, tangled curls so she could hold his face in her palms, thumbs drifting over his cheeks.</p><p>They said nothing. They did not want to disturb the fires still lit around them. Eventually Dany kissed him. Or maybe he kissed her. They held each other tight, skin burned into skin, mouths sealed as their mouths moved slowly together, painfully gentle. A direct contrast to the angry, carnal coupling that had just occurred between them. Dany fluttered her eyes open, locking to his, and she smiled, nervous. “I wanted to see the fire beneath the ice,” she murmured, unsure what one said after what they’d just did. She lifted her eyebrows, amused. “Suppose I finally did.”</p><p>He chuckled, to her surprise. “That you did,” he whispered. He nuzzled her nose, cocking his head. Fingers dug into the back of her neck, holding her face to his. They waited a beat and kissed again.</p><p>She stood, carefully sliding off of him, his cock softening inside of her. With a hand shaking through her messy curls, she went to the bathroom adjacent to her office, taking a washcloth and dampening it, cleaning herself up and bringing him one. They said nothing, redressing. Without her panties and her bralette, she went to the wardrobe and removed a lacy black dress, with solid panels on the sides and a sheer one down the front, teasing the swells of her breasts and her flat belly. It would hide the beard burn too, she figured.</p><p>“Zip me up?” She pulled her hair over her shoulder. He came up behind her, fingers dragging up her spine with the zipper. A shiver coursed through her.</p><p>He kissed the back of her neck, dipping his tongue to press to the bump of her spine at the top, where it met the base of her skull. “So, my contract? That clause?”</p><p><em>Oh yes, the contract.</em> She thought a moment and turned her face, looking over her shoulder. His fingers lightly held her hips steady, against him. She smirked. “Well you were right about one thing.”</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“I don’t want anyone else to fuck you. I don’t want them to even offer to fuck you, even if you would say no.”</p><p>A wry smile flitted over his lips. “And why is that?”</p><p>Vulnerability was not something she enjoyed. She made a habit of never being in a position to be vulnerable, to put herself out there without her cold businesslike demeanor or her fiery anger. She hesitated. <em>Just say it.</em> Her voice dropped, quiet. She tugged at one of the stray threads on his shirt, that used to hold the buttons on. “Because…because I want to be the only one who fucks you.”</p><p>He didn’t say a word. For a moment, Dany wondered if she had ruined it. If they did not in fact have that type of relationship. If she had put that clause in his contract solely for herself and he would not be happy about it, he would not see it for what it was. She didn’t want anyone else to offer themselves to him. She wanted no one who paid her money for escorts to even think of approaching him, on or off hours.</p><p>Jon Snow belonged to her.</p><p>“Well.”</p><p>Her head lifted, her palms sweaty, trying not to react to him. He had not been pleased with the clause. Regardless of what just happened between them. That was sex, she tried to tell herself. Just chemicals in their brains reacting to the other. “Well?” she echoed.</p><p>“I suppose I will need to tender my resignation.”</p><p>Her heart did a little backflip. “Why?”</p><p>“It would be unethical to keep fucking my boss.”</p><p>Lips parted, eyes lighting with surprise, she forgot herself. “What?”</p><p>He reached over for the contract, crumpled and stained from the whiskey, shaking a couple drops off. Without blinking, he lifted it up and tore it down the center, tossing the pieces to the side. He shoved his hands to his hips. “No more contract needed.”</p><p>She stepped to him at the same time he moved to her. They kissed; this time long, slow, and she smiled, realizing he was smiling too. Realization had set in earlier, but now she finally was able to voice it. “You were never upset that I didn’t give you the other women. Always the old ladies and the women who just needed an equal counterpart,” she breathed.</p><p>He nodded. “No, I don’t like mixing business with pleasure.” He paused, another growling chuckle escaping, his lip curling over his teeth. He nipped her lip again. “Before.”</p><p>“So you weren’t mad about the contract?”</p><p>“No I was mad. In fact, I was furious.” He laughed. Now he cocked his head, adorably cheeky. “I don’t like being told what to do.”</p><p><em>Of course he didn’t.</em> She rolled her eyes. “And you came here to complain to me.”</p><p>“We both played it right.”</p><p>“Hmm, we did.” She put that clause in there because she didn’t want any women to even think of going near him. He stormed to her to complain about it. It was inevitable they’d clash. <em>Fire and ice</em>, she thought, fingers sliding along his, remembering what Robb said about his cousin being cool and aloof. Jon had both sides. It was her turn again to duck her head, murmuring, her cheek against his chest. “I would like to ask you something.”</p><p>He pulled back, studying her face nervously. “Okay?”</p><p>She took a deep breath, trying not to look at him, focusing on a painting across the office of three dragons tearing apart a lioness. “I have a home on Dragonstone, there’s a very nice private beach. I was wondering if you would like to accompany me there this weekend.”</p><p>“Ah…” He faltered. Her heart dropped to her stomach; she mentally chastised herself for thinking he might want something beyond what just happened between them. She tried to put up her mask again, that icy veneer, but she realized quickly he was nervous again, not avoiding. He tinged pink, mumbling. “You know I have a daughter.”</p><p>“Bring her,” she blurted. She always assumed he would. It was part of the invitation. She smiled, softer. The <em>Myhsa</em>, some of her girls referred to her as. <em>Mother.</em> “You know I love children and…and you having a daughter has been the reason for your particular…clients.”</p><p>He laughed. “I assumed that was another reason why I always got Olenna Redwyne.”</p><p>“She likes your arse, Jon Snow. Tells me so whenever she calls to book you.”</p><p>“You didn’t really hate me.”</p><p>It was a statement, one she nodded, confirming. “No,” she murmured. She felt weird again, on display, more than she did when he had her pressed to the window, fucking her. She fiddled with his fingers, squeezing. “No I did not hate you.”</p><p>They kissed once more, his lips swiftly covering hers. She moaned softly, stepping backwards, off balance, but he caught her, large hands covering her back, holding her steady. He broke the kiss a moment later, chuckling. “I will be sorry to stop working for you, but at least I got to fuck the boss once.”</p><p>She narrowed her eyes; there was actually something she wanted to discuss with him. “You are a law student?” she murmured, her fingers twirling at the nape of his neck. Her brows arched. “Yes?”</p><p>“No longer a student. I passed the bar a year ago.” Her eyes widened, shocked. He’d managed to surprise her, Jon Snow. He smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t have the heart to quit even after I passed.” His lips twitched. “Wouldn’t see you anymore.”</p><p>They kissed, harder, desperate, after that admission. She had no idea how she had kept her hands off him this long. She pulled at his hair, nails digging into his scalp again, her mouth rubbing on his, her lipstick long gone. She shook her head, annoyed. “You arsehole.”</p><p>He yanked back her hair, providing her neck to him, and he kissed down to the juncture with her shoulder, rumbling into her skin, pleased. “I am.” He sighed. “I’ll have to find another job.”</p><p>“So, by your logic, if I am no logner your boss, you…” She moaned softly, his tongue starting to trace patterns at a sensitive spot that had her toes curling. She gripped him tighter, gasping. “You would not be averse to fucking me?”</p><p>“Never was averse to fucking you, but it maeks things easier.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then we can talk later Jon Snow, for it seems I might need a lawyer.” She tore herself from his ministrations, her palm pushing up under his chin; now he was at her mercy. She suckled his bottom lip, enjoying how his body reacted instantly, melting to hers. She purred. “Equal parts in a business, we can discuss later.” She reached behind him, glad to see his eyes were dark with curiosity. Her palm came down, striking his denim clad arse, reminding him even if they were equal, she would still be the boss. His face contorted in a grimace at her slap. “Ooh,” she cooed, pursing her lips dramatically. “Poor darling.” She slipped her hand underneath the waistband, lightly stroking his taut bottom, rubbing gently. “My heels did a number on you.”</p><p>“Your claws.”</p><p>“I’ll kiss it and make it better.”</p><p>He was going to say something, gray eyes positively black, but her intercom buzzed, tearing them apart. They both glared at the device, perturbed at the interruption. She moved away, reaching to run her hand over her hair. She’d completely forgotten herself, very uncharacteristic. They were in her place of business after all. She moved towards it and pressed the button. “Yes Missandei?”</p><p>“Your eleven is at the entrance, Grey is searching him.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>The door opened, Missandei entering now that business had to recommence. Dany shot a look at him, but Jon was fast. He’d zipped up his jacket over his torn shirt. He nodded to her and to Missandei. “I’ll call you,” he said to her, without another word or even a smile, sweeping from the room in a cloud of black.</p><p>Her friend waited a moment, the door outside the office clicking shut, the alarm panel beeping once it reset. Dark, curious eyes studied her, while she went over to the bar, to pour them both a drink. “Did he sign a new contract?” Missandei asked, kneeling to pick up the pieces from the floor.</p><p>“Ah…no.”</p><p>“Oh.” Missandei carefully placed the torn contract into her folder, fussing a moment with her notes. She tapped her pen to the note pad, lips pressing into a smile. She glanced sideways, knowingly. “Well…did you at least put up a fight?”</p><p>Daenerys choked on the vodka she’d poured for herself, coughing and wiping at her nose, blinking watery at Missandei. She composed herself as best as possible. Her office was soundproof; there was no way she’d have known what had occurred in there. She shrugged, nonchalant. “I have no idea what you mean.”</p><p>Her friend knelt again and swept up the scrap of black lace from the floor; Dany’s cheeks flamed in mortification. Missandei chuckled, handing them discreetly to her, Dany shoving them into one of the desk drawers. “I assume there’s a story there.”</p><p>“I will tell you later.” The outer office door buzzed. She straightened again. “Send in my eleven please.” She smiled, quickly, and whispered. “He put up a fight too.”</p><p>Missandel grinned and turned, going to the office, speaking briefly with her eleven. The door opened again and this time she returned, accompanied by Dany’s lawyer Tyrion. Tyrion glanced around the office and then to her, narrowing his eyes. He said nothing but dropped his briefcase onto the corner of her desk, flicking it open and began removing papers and folders. “We have a lot to discuss. Did that contract I drew up for you suffice?”</p><p>“It did.”</p><p>“Did he sign it?”</p><p>“Draw up a severance package, he has decided to seek employment elsewhere.”</p><p>Tyrion tutted. “That’s too bad.”</p><p>“Let’s make this quick, I have other business to attend to this evening.” She stood in front of the window, searching the crowd. It took a moment, but she spotted him, towards the back exit. He paused, before disappearing, and turned, lifting his face straight towards the mirror, knowing where she stood, and locking his eyes onto hers. Her blood quickened, excited at knowing he could find her, even behind the two-way glass. He grinned and swept away through the door, out into the icy darkness.</p><p>Tyrion paid her no attention, fussing with the documents he’d come to discuss. “Big plans I take it?”</p><p>“Hmm, very big.”</p><p>“You know, I find it very amusing how you have all these able-bodied, handsome men at your beck and call, and yet you manage to keep your fingers off of them.” Tyrion tsked. “I know you shouldn’t dip pen in the company ink and all, but honestly. You’re the Dragon Queen. You can do whatever you want.”</p><p>She twisted the dragon charm around on the chain, side to side, the fire inside of her flaring, anticipating what might occur later. “Well you’re right. I don’t dip my pen in company ink as you say, but he is no longer in my employ.” She turned back to the desk, smiling at Tyrion’s frown. She had an idea, she would discuss with Jon. He might find it rather lucrative.</p><p>Tyrion scowled. “What’s that on your face?”</p><p>The girlish grin she’d been sporting disappeared instantly, the ice returning. She pulled the papers to her and sank into the chair she’d fucked Jon on moments before. “Nothing, like I said, let’s get this over with.” She twirled the dragon on her neck again. “I can’t keep my wolf waiting.”</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. ice is still hot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jon is exhausted and missing Daenerys; he does not have time to deal with his manwhore cousin Robb.  Then Dany comes back early, leading to some surprises in the backseat of the car...once Jon can get Robb to go away.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The sequel no one needs, lol.  Enjoy :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>The contracts stared up at Jon, taunting him to finish. He had given up on them a long while ago, his whiskey glass dangling at his fingertips and his shirt collar unbuttoned, the gray designer suit jacket he’d started off the day wearing now thrown carelessly over one of the chairs in front of his dragonglass desk earlier. The meeting he’d had with Tyrion and Varys had been stressful; he’d needed a glass of whiskey just to get through their mundane droning about the latest <em>purity</em> legislation that might have an effect on the Dracarys Group businesses.</p><p>He lifted the crystal tumbler to his lips, turning in his chair to look out the wide arching windows of his office on the city below; Dracarys Group had several offices across the city and abroad, but his had the best view. He could see the Red Keep, the ruins of the Dragonpit, and the Sept of Baelor in one sweep of his cool gray gaze. He glanced to Blackwater Bay, its aqua blue waters inviting, conjuring up memories of the last time he’d spent on Dragonstone—gods it had been almost a month.</p><p>He sighed; he wouldn’t be back at Dragonstone for another week. It would be a lonely week too. He woke up every morning to a nighttime visitor in the form of his daughter, who liked that she could take up the entire half of the king-sized bed if she so chose, not having to share it with anyone else. Didn’t matter, he always woke up to a foot kicked in his face. He finished his whiskey, with one last longing look at the Blackwater, the sun beginning to set over it, the aqua gaining a more azure tint. He put the glass on the sideboard, contemplating another, but thought against it.</p><p>The contracts needed signing off, he couldn’t be drunk while he read through what they’d be giving up and gaining from Theon, Robb, and Loras. Especially if Loras tried to justify his hair expenses being what they were as a <em>necessary payment.</em> He went back over to the desk, the intercom buzzing. It was his assistant, Irri. He punched the button on the box. “Yes?” he asked.</p><p>“Mr. Snow there’s a matter requiring your attention at the Dragonpit.”</p><p>He sighed. “Patch it through.” He picked up the slim phone receiver, lifting it to his ear. He didn’t even bother with pleasantries. “What now?”</p><p>“Mr. Stark is here to see you Mr. Snow.” Missandei sounded annoyed. He didn’t blame her. She had more important things to do than deal with <em>Mr. Stark.</em> She sniffed. “He says he was in the neighborhood and thought you might be here. He’s bothering Ros.”</p><p>“Thank you, Missy. Tell him I’ll be there in twenty.” He paused, his brow immediately furrowing. <em>If Robb was at the club then…</em> He groaned. “Is he alone?”</p><p>“Ah…Ms. Snow is getting…” Missandei chuckled. “A makeup tutorial.”</p><p>He cursed low under his breath. <em>Damn his cousin to the seven hells and back.</em> “Thank you Missandei. I will be there shortly.”</p><p>“I also have sent you the latest fundraising figures.”</p><p>“I’ve received them. Thank you.” Missandei disconnected without another word; she was quite efficient in that way. Jon appreciated that in her. He stood fluidly, sweeping up the contracts he’d look at later that evening; he didn’t understand why Tyrion couldn’t do this, but since he’d become Dany’s COO, he had taken over responsibility for final sign off on the employment matters for the escort service. He shoved them into his briefcase and grabbed his jacket, walking quickly out of his office.</p><p>Irri jumped to her feet, surprised. “Mr. Snow,” she exclaimed, frowning. “Are you done for the day?”</p><p>“I have to go to the Dragonpit. Just take messages for the rest of the day, obviously if Ms. Targaryen calls…”</p><p>“I’ll forward her immediately.” Irri picked up the phone to call for the car, smirking over at him. Her tanned skin darkened a bit at the tops of her cheeks. “Is Mr. Stark involved?”</p><p>He rolled his eyes, shrugging into his jacket. “Obviously.”</p><p>She chuckled, barking into the phone in Dothraki. She set it back down, smiling over at him as she took her seat again. “Rakharo is bringing the Range Rover around.”</p><p>He shot her a look of immense gratitude; he wouldn’t be able to get through his day without her help. Irri ran the office. He picked up his briefcase again and flicked his phone out of his pocket, thanking her once more and sending her home early; he knew she wouldn’t listen; she’d stay late and clean up any mistakes he’d made on everything he’d given her. He looked down at his phone, seeing a text he’d missed during his attempt at reviewing the contracts.</p><p>
  <em>I miss you. Just one more day.</em>
</p><p>He groaned inwardly; it had been almost two weeks. He was desperate. He hated when she had to go to Essos, but it was an important business trip. She was meeting with leaders of Volantis, to testify on behalf of increased funding for girls’ education. It was a major coup for her and was vital for the furtherance of the Red Door Initiative. He sent back a text, letting her know he missed her too and that Robb would be taking Aryanna for the weekend, affording them some much needed time alone.</p><p>If of course, he didn’t <em>murder</em> his cousin in the interim. In that case, Aryanna would be spending a few days with Auntie Missy and Uncle Grey. He knew she wouldn’t mind, his daughter adored her new family, the family she’d come to adopt as her own when he’d moved from simply being Daenerys’s employee to her COO and the head of her Red Door Initiative, a venture that sought to provide homes to orphaned children.</p><p>Sometimes the world didn’t know what to make of Daenerys Targaryen and she preferred it that way. The enigmatic CEO of Dracarys Group had made her name in her burlesque club and her six-figure escort service for women to non-profits advocating for girls’ education, cessation of human trafficking, women’s health, and female empowerment. He loved her desperately for it. He also appreciated how she did not shy away from the nastier side of things; she went toe-to-toe with the underbelly of the world, corrupt businessmen, and had an ongoing war with Stannis Baratheon, the Minister of Justice, who had been single-handedly trying to shut down her escort service and burlesque clubs as “immoral acts” since she became known for them.</p><p>Jon nodded to Rakharo, who was waiting outside the building, the engine idling. He climbed in and closed the door, leaning forward to tell him where he needed to go, when Rakharo simply pulled from the curb and said in his clipped Dothraki accent: “Dragonpit, boss?”</p><p>“Uh, yes.”</p><p>“<em>Khaleesi</em> is back tomorrow night, yes?”</p><p>“Thank gods,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. Rakharo chuckled at that, zooming through King’s Landing early evening traffic. Jon leaned back in the buttery soft leather of the Range Rover, gazing outside as the city blew by. He almost dozed off, but jumped in place when the car stopped, Rakharo announcing they had arrived. He couldn’t believe how fast the man could drive and somehow, he never got a speeding ticket. He thanked him, climbed out, and went up through the back entrance, which he’d always used in the past.</p><p>Just thinking of his days as one of Dany’s <em>dragons</em> made him smile in amused nostalgia. He didn’t miss it at all; he took the job because he needed money, his pittance of military education allowance not helping him with law school, rent, and his daughter’s care. He needed something that would let him study, go to class, and also be there for Aryanna. Which meant nothing. He was at his wit’s end when Robb came to him, said he had an offer for him, but he couldn’t laugh.</p><p>He hadn’t laughed, he had been so stunned by his cousin’s pronouncement—he never asked what Robb did for a living. He had weird hours, always had money, was spending gods knew how much on hair care and gym membership and traveled nonstop. To be honest, he just figured Robb was living up to the playboy lifestyle as the heir to a massive fortune. But an <em>escort</em>?</p><p><em>”There’s no sex unless you both want it, that’s the thing that Khaleesi makes us agree to in our contracts, same for the women. It isn’t that anyway, I mean, sometimes I just show up and sit with them while they knit, or we go hiking or whatever. There’s the occasional beard, for the ones who don’t want to come out yet. Theon always gets the ones that like going out on a boat, there’s a couple even that are gay so Khaleesi doesn’t put them in positions where they might be uncomfortable…she’s so good like that. It’s all about the women you know.</em>”</p><p>And then he’d shown him what was in his accounts. Jon almost passed out at the numbers. He hesitated and then shrugged. “I like a challenge I guess,” he agreed, saying he would meet with this <em>Khaleesi</em> as Robb called his boss. The one in charge, the <em>madam</em> as it were. She ran her business out of a burlesque club, the Dragonpit. Jon hadn’t heard of it, but then he didn’t know what burlesque was.</p><p>He learned quickly, was bowled over by the tiny little goddess who shook his hand with an iron grip. Her stilettos barely put her at eye level with him and he wasn’t that tall. The violet chips of amethyst bore hole into his, seeing straight through him. She was intense, for sure, and he would never admit that he liked her. He respected her, especially when he learned what she’d experienced and <em>why</em> she was as committed as she was to ensuring women took control over their lives, including their romantic, friendship, and sex lives.</p><p>It gave him all he needed and more; the second she found out about his daughter, Robb said, she had caved and agreed to the meeting. The moment he’d mentioned her, Daenerys had added another zero to his rate, with the difference going into an educational fund for Aryanna.</p><p>Often, he never met with Dany, didn’t have need to meet with her, just for the occasional check-in and paperwork. Most things were all conducted via text, email, or Missandei. When he did get summoned to the dragon lair, he entered through the back exit, slipped around the dressing rooms and stage, along the side by the bar, and then up the hidden staircase with an accompanying elevator. Her suite of offices took up the top of the club, giving her free reign to see everything that happened on stage and in the seating area.</p><p>Nothing got by Daenerys Targaryen.</p><p>Jon hadn’t taken to calling her <em>Khaleesi</em> the way Robb did, or <em>Mhysa</em> like some of the other escorts. <em>Dragon Queen</em>, Theon and Loras and Renly all called her that. She was and would always be <em>Dany.</em> It irritated her, when he first started using it, but then he realized she <em>liked</em> it. Not that she’d admit it. They were in a battle of wills, had been since the first second he laid eyes on her. He wasn’t sure why or how it happened. Just that it did.</p><p>He would not relinquish control to Madam Daenerys Targaryen.</p><p>Neither would she.</p><p>Then of course things upended. Now he was her Chief Operating Officer, her live-in lover, and she was undoubtably going to be the mother of his future children and his wife, when he got around to asking her. It was kind of a given between them. He just showed up at her penthouse one day and that was it. Aryanna was living there, going to school nearby, and there was Auntie Missy, Uncle Grey, and…</p><p>
  <em>Seven Hells.</em>
</p><p>“Aryanna,” he hissed, entering the dressing room, allowed in only because Ros caught sight of him and beckoned him in, the massive Dothraki bouncer at the door letting him pass. He sighed, seeing Robb flirting with one of the other dancers, Jeyne Westerling. She laughed, batting her eyelashes and sliding closer to him. Robb blinked his baby blues, flashed his teeth, and she almost fell to her knees in front of him. Jon rolled his eyes; he’d seen it all before. Robb’s process should be patented.</p><p>He wasn’t sure really who to target first, but Aryanna was closest. He approached her, scowling. She grinned up, her eyelids covered in bright pinks and purples. There was a pink boa around her neck, a crown atop her head, and she was kicking her feet out wearing sparkling heels that were several sizes too large. To his absolute horror, his six-year old daughter was wearing two silver clamshell pasties stuck to her t-shirt. She giggled and pulled her shirt hem down so he could see. “Lookit Daddy! I’m sparkling!”</p><p><em>Oh my gods I’m going to murder Robb.</em> “Robb!” he bellowed, barely able to function. There was a vein in his forehead. It was going to burst; he was sure of it.</p><p>Ros tittered, reaching to adjust the boa and gave Aryanna a fan, showing her out to flick it out properly. “All in the wrist darling,” she said, laughing as Aryanna tried it, on the third try, the fan spun out, all feathers and sparkles. “Wonderful! You’ve got the makings of a dancer.”</p><p>“Daddy did you hear that! I’m gonna’ be a…”</p><p>“We can have that discussion later,” Jon said, in lieu of snapping at Ros. It was best not to antagonize the head of the dancers; she was a force. They all were, but she was scariest. He left her to continue teaching Aryanna, his single focus at the moment on his cousin. He went over to Robb, who was saying something about how he had climbed the Wall—with no ropes.</p><p>“I mean, it’s really easy, people who need the ropes just don’t <em>get</em> it, it’s all about your core strength, see…” Robb pulled up his t-shirt, showing his abs to Jeyne, whose brown eyes went wide and glassy at the sight. There might as well have been drool trickling down her chin. He flexed them, puffing up his chest a bit, every bit the arrogant arsehole he was. “Go ahead, hit me, I won’t feel it at all.”</p><p>The young woman leaned in, laughing a little and reached to punch at his stomach, but he interrupted, ruining any continued attempts at his cousin to get into Jeyne’s knickers. He stepped between her and his cousin, preventing her from testing Robb’s core strength. “Jeyne can I have a word with my cousin?” he asked, silkily.</p><p>He didn’t wait for her answer, unfortunately the dancer falling backwards slightly as he snatched Robb’s upper arm, yanking him to his feet in one jerky move. He dragged him unceremoniously over to one of the empty makeup stalls—probably belonged to Doreah, he thought he heard the drumbeats of her Lyseni inspired routine when he entered the club. He pushed Robb against the display, the hundreds of makeup bottles and canisters rolling and clattering, while Robb grunted, trying to avoid sticking his hand into an open canister of rouge. He grit his teeth, eyes closing. “<em>What</em> are you doing?”</p><p>Robb shifted; his fur ruffled, blue eyes darting to look for Jeyne again. Instead, Jon stepped into his line of sight. He scowled. “I needed to talk to you, I thought you were working here while Khaleesi was gone.”</p><p>“I was downtown, so what do you want and <em>why</em> is my six-year old daughter wearing <em>pasties</em> on her t-shirt?”</p><p>“She’s learning all about female sexuality, it’s good for her.”</p><p>“She’s <em>six</em>!”</p><p>The manwhore that was his cousin glanced around him again, flashing his crooked smile at Jeyne, who grinned and waggled her fingers at him. He mimicked a move with his hand, mouthing ‘call me’ and she nodded, laughing. She picked up her silk fans for her routine, blew him a kiss, and strode out confidently on her heels towards the stage, since she was up next. He leaned back over, eyebrows lifting. “She’s single, right?”</p><p>“Would it stop you otherwise?” He didn’t need to hear Robb’s answer. He sighed, pinching his nose. This was exhausting. There was a lot going on, his daughter was currently learning how to burlesque dance before she even knew multiplication tables and he was currently two weeks into missing Daenerys. That seemed the worst bit to him. “What do you want? Can your issue wait? Dany’s out of town until tomorrow, she’s been gone two weeks.”</p><p>Robb cringed, sympathetic. “Blue balls, huh? Or is your wrist hurting?”</p><p>Jon did not want to dignify that with a response; but yes, his wrist was hurting, and he was pretty sure Dany’s was too. There was only so much Skype sex they could have. Both of them were desperate for each other; they had become so needy. It started as once a day but now she would call him in the morning, afternoon, and evening just to discuss what she planned to do to him when she got home. If anything, it made it worse because he could see her but not touch her. It just wasn’t the same. He ignored Robb’s knowing smirk, breezing by the comment on the status of his balls. “Well if it cannot wait, what can I help you with Robb?”</p><p>That got him back to the matter at hand. He snapped, brisk. “You can help with my schedule.” Robb pulled out his phone and pulled up the scheduling app they used, turning and thrusting the phone under his nose. He scowled. “Look at this! I’ve got Olenna <em>all week</em>!”</p><p>He didn’t have a chance to answer him, when Ros butted in. “Oh Olenna is a dear!” she exclaimed. She touched at her earring, her nose wrinkling a little. “I mean…she said my earlobes were a bit too big but…” She plastered her bright red lipped smile on again. “She’s a good client. Why so upset with her?”</p><p><em>Because Robb loves fucking Olenna’s granddaughter,</em> Jon thought silently. It wasn’t a secret, even though Robb would date anything that had a pair of breasts. He should have realized it when he’d put the schedules together last week but didn’t think it would be an issue. Dany had left him copious amounts of notes and guidance on it; there had been nothing saying he <em>couldn’t</em> go on the afternoon visits Olenna had standing. This conversation though would be best held elsewhere, not the dressing rooms. He wiggled his fingers towards him and turned, leading Robb out of the dressing room.</p><p>“Where you going?” Aryanna asked, her lips pursed as he walked by her. It seemed Jhiqui, one of the other dancers, was using her to test out lipstick shades. Aryanna was game. Her lips were now a shade of bright purple.</p><p>“Daddy will be back.” He glared at Robb. “I’ve got to deal with your crazy uncle.”</p><p>Aryanna did not care, shrugging and turned to Jhiqui, pursing her lips once more. “Okay!”</p><p>He led Robb through the club, his cousin distracted by a couple of the cocktail waitresses, all of whom knew enough mixed martial arts to render each one of them castrated with their balls in their throats within five seconds. There was a certain danger to entering the Dragonpit, whether as patron or as the employer. He pushed Robb on towards the stairs, getting to the top, where he hit in his code, the alarm panel beeping once and leading him inside. He nodded to Missandei, who jumped out of her chair, in the office attached to Dany’s. “Hey Missy, I’m here now…”</p><p>“Uh, I don’t think Mr. Stark should go in…”</p><p>“It’s fine, we just need to adjust his schedule.” He hit the code and pushed open the door, before Missandei could stop him, her body a blur trying to get around her desk and to the door in time.</p><p>Thank the gods Robb was oblivious, trying to flirt with Missandei, who wore a giant rock on her left hand—but nothing really stopped him. He pushed the door open, took one look at the woman stretched out on the desk, wearing nothing but a black lace corset and stiletto heels, a silver braid coiled over her bare shoulder and deep violet eyes lighting up at the sight of him. Her mouth—painted bright red—opened to call his name, but he immediately closed his eyes and yanked the door shut. He whipped around, leaning back against it.</p><p>Robb looked up from the phone. “What?”</p><p>He shot a look at Missy, who shrugged, with her all-knowing look trained on him. “I told you,” she said.</p><p>“Told him what?” Robb wondered, trying to get around him to the door. He turned, scowling. “What’s going on?”</p><p>“Robb take Aryanna home and get out of here. I’ll deal with your schedule later.”</p><p>“No way! I’m supposed to see Olenna tomorrow morning, put Renly on it!”</p><p>“She fucking <em>hates</em> Renly, she makes him cry.”</p><p>That didn’t garner any sympathy from Robb. “Fuck she makes me cry! Margaery says she won’t sleep with me if I’m spending all day with her grandmother and I had plans for her!” He thrust his phone back out, impatient, whining like they were children again and he was going to go tattle on Jon to his mother. He pouted. “Come on! Just switch me with whoever has Margaery. Is it Qhono? That Dothraki fucker, I’ll grow my hair out long, I’ll start wearing eyeliner! Is that what she wants now? Tell me!”</p><p>He could not take this. He spun Robb around, pushing him to the door. “Get. Out. Keep Aryanna away…” He trailed off, the door opening behind him with a light click.</p><p>“Hello Robb, Jon. What is all this commotion?” Daenerys purred, standing in the doorway wearing a perfectly tailored black pantsuit, the deep ‘v’ of the neckline revealing a lovely bare stretch of her chest and collarbone. She smiled at him, violet eyes twinkling, equally sorry and amused. She stepped towards him, a hand lightly patting his chest, rising on the toes of her high heels to peck a kiss to his mouth. “Surprise babe, I had them rearrange some meetings and was able to get out a day early. The chopper is waiting at the airport to take us to Dragonstone. Or we could maybe take the jet out, perhaps to the Summer Isles or maybe to Sunspear if that’s too far?” Now she was baiting him, her fingertip dragging in circles around the hollow of his throat, exposed via his tugged-out tie knot and open shirt collar. The tip of her pink little tongue flicked out, dabbing her upper lip and down to her lower, which she tugged under her upper teeth.</p><p><em>Oh she’s good</em>, he thought, feeling his cock stir in his pants. He stiffened his spine, calling upon all his strength not to react in front of the company’s Chief Financial Officer—Missandei was the real brains behind everything—and his lech of a cousin. He smiled tightly. “You’re early, this is quite the surprise!” He affected a big hug, kissing her cheek and squeezing her lightly.</p><p>The minx took the opportunity to circle her hips against his, the sight of it blocked by his body from the other two, who he wouldn’t mind at all if they just vanished into thin air. She nipped his earlobe; he slammed his eyes closed, clenching tight. “Get rid of your cousin,” she breathed, her breathy voice hot. She pursed her lips, blowing a cool stream of air over the heated skin of his neck, which she nibbled on. “Now.”</p><p>He spun around, glanced at the letter opener on the desk, and thought only momentarily of driving it into Robb’s jugular. <em>But then who will watch Aryanna?</em> He grinned, maniacal. “Robb! I’ll change your schedule, I promise, but I need you to take Aryanna home with you.”</p><p>“Why? What’s going on?” he teased, wiggling his brows and wagging his tongue from side to side.</p><p>Jon ignored him. “And no visitors like last time.”</p><p>Robb rolled his eyes and glanced at his phone, still messing with the app. “That was just Wynafryd.”</p><p><em>Just Wynafryd!</em> “It took me weeks to convince Aryanna that she didn’t need to dye her hair green to be just like Uncle Robb’s sleepover friend.” He pushed Robb to the door, yanking it open, but was stymied again. He was confronted with the sight of his daughter, who now had the pinkest cheeks he’d ever seen—magenta in fact—to match her eyelids, a tiara, the boa, feathers sticking out of her sleek bun, and the sparkling pasties still on her t-shirt. She clomped in, feet in the dancing shoes and she wore leg warmers over her purple leggings.</p><p>“Dany!” she squealed, before even acknowledging him.</p><p>Real surprise hit Dany’s face at the sight of Aryanna. “Arry!” she laughed, using her pet name for his daughter. She knelt and instantly enveloped the little girl into her arms, somehow also removing the pasties at the same time, handing them off to Missy, who deftly shut them in the desk drawer. “Look at you! So beautiful!”</p><p>“I’m gonna’ be dancer.”</p><p>“I am sure you will be the best dancer I have in my troupe, but perhaps we should get you shoes that fit, yes?” She glanced at Jon; apology written in her twisted brow. There would be no desk sex if she knew Arry was wandering around. His cock had deflated immediately upon seeing Robb when he’d turned, so he understood. “Well now that I know Arry is here, um…maybe…maybe we can all go to the airport together?”</p><p>“Airport?” Robb arched his brows. He grinned. “Where you going? Can I come?”</p><p>“Dragonstone,” Dany answered; Jon glared at her. <em>Why did she have to tell him!?</em> She hesitated for a moment, but then just dove straight in. There was no getting out of it anyways. “I was going to surprise Jon with a visit, now that I’m back from my trip.”</p><p>“Ooh can we bring the kitties?” Aryanna asked, giggling excitedly. She loved Dany’s three cats. “And Ghost?”</p><p>“They’re on their way actually.”</p><p>That was news to him, but surprises were commonplace with his beloved girlfriend. He forced a smile, glancing between Aryanna’s excited grin and his cousin’s knowing and leering gaze. He turned to Robb, affixing another tight half-smile on his lips. “Robb, why don’t you take Aryanna and meet us at the airport? You know the way I’m sure.” It was the same private airport where he usually left on his various dates. If he could get them out ahead, perhaps he’d still have time to fuck Dany on the couch in her office, or against the two-way window again—she really loved that—or even on the desk chair. He was not picky.</p><p>“Hmm,” Robb waved the phone in front of him again. “Olenna…you know.”</p><p><em>Fuck this.</em> He grabbed the damn phone, logged into his administrator account, and switched Robb with Renly. He would just have to suffer the wrath of the Queen of Thorns later and hear Renly’s freakout at the same time. He shoved the phone at him. “There. Happy? You have dates with Margaery all week. There’s one tomorrow, so make sure you get back from Dragonstone on your own if you’re coming with us.”</p><p>“Thank you, that wasn’t so hard.”</p><p><em>No, nothing is hard right now</em>, he thought darkly. He exchanged a look with Dany, who was still smiling enigmatically, holding Arry. He sighed. “Is there anything else Robb?”</p><p>“Nope, come on Arry,” Robb called, smiling around to his niece. He took her hand, smirking. “These two have some…catchup to do.”</p><p>Aryanna’s face went crestfallen. She reached for him. “But Daddy can I show you my dance?”</p><p>“At Dragonstone, okay love? I need to talk to Dany about some work things on the way.” He was a total heel for lying to his daughter, but he figured it could just go into the various other bank of lies he’d told her throughout her life, just to make things a bit easier for him. Or her, honestly. He kissed her forehead, wincing when he felt cakey makeup transfer to his lips. He wiped at them, wriggling his nose in her direction. “I’ll talk to you at the airport.”</p><p>“Okay, fine.” She turned and clomped out of the office, waving. “See you there!”</p><p>“Bye love!” Dany called.</p><p>They flew out of the office; he didn’t think anyone had moved as fast as he had, in fact he was not sure that Daenerys’s feet touched the floor. He ignored Robb’s protest that he get the Suburban instead of the Range Rover, and bodily threw Dany through the back door, clambering up after her. The reason for the Suburban vice the Range Rover, of course, was the massive leather bench-like seats, the large stretch of room where the middle row used to be, and the soundproof and black-tinted partition between them and the driver, who he noted was Mormont this evening.</p><p><em>Sorry mate</em>, he thought, pulling the door closed just in time for Dany’s fingers to dive through his hair, yanking at the elastic band holding them back, and breaking it clean in two. He growled, immediately turned on by her aggressiveness. “You’re impatient,” he mumbled against her mouth, which was already atop his, her little body wiggling up and down over him, and pressing him against the door; his elbow jammed onto it, lowering the window a bit, but he didn’t care, somehow hitting it back so it rolled up.</p><p>She said nothing, too busy biting at his lips, his tongue, and face, her nails curving into his cheeks and then the back of his head. He flinched at the yank on his hair, positive some of it came out with her movements, but she was desperate and so was he. He had never tasted anything sweeter; pure sugar could not compare to the taste of her skin, which he lapped at with the flat of his tongue, licking the drop of sweat already making its way from the nape of her neck around her clavicle. She whimpered, grip tightening, not only on his hair but all around him. He groaned, needing more.</p><p>Her suit pants were too cumbersome for him, but allowed her to straddle his thighs, her cunt rocking against the iron-hard bulge in his trousers. He reached between them to undo his belt; this was going to be hard; it was going to be fast, and he could make up to her later, but by gods he had to be inside her, or he was going to die, he was sure of it. Judging from her whimpering moans, she was right there with him. “Hurry,” she begged, nipping at his tongue. She sobbed in frustration, until a soft little grunt erupted from the back of her throat, tearing his shirt apart, buttons scattering.</p><p><em>Oh fuck</em>, he thought, eyes wide. “Daenerys,” he chuckled. He pulled on her hair, yanking her chin up and he licked at it, biting her bottom lip. “Naughty, naughty.”</p><p>“Fuck. You.”</p><p>He flipped her, knocking them onto the floor between the two rows of seats, grateful the middle row was gone. He pinned her arms above her head, his fingers fumbling between them, finally getting under the waistband, and he released a happy sigh, his fingers gliding over her bare cunt, already feeling the heat of her desire against them before he dived into the folds, where she was soaking wet. “Hmmm, so good,” he mumbled against her neck, stroking with a bit more force than he normally would so early on, but she needed it, arching her hips to his hand, rubbing wantonly on his palm. He smiled. “How long have you been like this?”</p><p>“Hmm, I couldn’t wait until you show up,” she gasped, pulling his face to hers again. They kissed sloppily, her cunt riding his hand and she panted through the rising crest of her orgasm, while he arched against her, his cock all but screaming in rebellion, threatening to explode without any preamble. She sensed it, her hands inside the placket of his trousers, and at the first touch of her soft palm on his cock, he almost lost it, thrusting unconsciously against her, his fingers faltering inside her cunt. It was her turn to chuckle. “What have we here?”</p><p>He bit hard on her collarbone, delighting in her little yelp. “What do you think?”</p><p>“I want to taste you.”</p><p>“No time,” he said, pulling his hand from her and folding upwards, his knees pinned to either side of her hips. He yanked off what remained of his shirt, tie, and jacket, throwing them somewhere while she flicked her heels in some direction. He heard the loud ‘clonk’ of one on the window. They both yelped suddenly, the SUV taking a sharp turn, tumbling to the side.</p><p>The turn dislodged them, allowing her the opportunity to knock him onto his back. She removed what remained of her blazer and she didn’t have a bra on underneath, her tits free to his gaze and mouth, which watered at the sight of them. They were so fucking perfect, pale moonlit globes with dusky pink nipples, flushed and tightened with her desire. She trailed her fingertips down her sternum to between them, before cupping one in her little palm, squeezing gently. She grinned down at him, her purple eyes deep and hooded. “Now whose in control?”</p><p>“Fuck. You.” It was his turn to curse, to hate her for what she was doing. They seriously could not stop this game. It happened all the time, even after two weeks apart, they were still fucking with each other. They didn’t have much time; the sharp turn meant they were halfway to the airfield; it was the curve around the old Dragonpit ruins. He sucked in hot hair between his clenched teeth, bucking up under her.</p><p>She squealed, falling off him and onto the backseat, hoisting herself up. He dove forward, assisted by the stop of the car at a light. He pulled off her trousers, the otherworldly glow from the lights outside the car casting her pale skin in sharp relief, her cunt glistening and dark with desire. He gripped her knees, wrenching her legs apart, tugging her towards the edge. Her head hit back on the leather, her braids falling loose, eyes closed, and breasts lifting and falling rapidly in anticipation of what was to come.</p><p>He rumbled his breath against her creamy thigh, which was soft as silk, pressing a light kiss to the juncture with her hip. “You didn’t think I’d let you get a taste before I did?” he murmured, licking a path to her velvety cunt. When she left, she had a little thatch of silver curls he liked to bury his nose into, but she’d surprised him, bare and soft, which also made her more sensitive. He liked to take advantage of that, he thought with a devious smile.</p><p>She squealed, when he nipped at her skin, and the squeal turned into a strangled moan, once he finally got his taste, a taste he had missed out on for two fucking weeks. <em>Gods.</em> He groaned in relief, the painful throb of his cock ebbing slightly once he tasted her. There was nothing like Daenerys Targaryen. How he had lived his entire life without knowing it. Thank the gods he knew it now. His tongue darted around, unable to determine what he wanted first. Her clit was the obvious choice, but he teased her first, long swipes up and down from cleft to clit, nibbling around her lips and eventually to her clit, rasping his tongue against it.</p><p>She almost screamed when he finally suckled it into his mouth, her heels on his shoulders, pushing down as she arched up to meet him. “Jon,” she cried, over and over. She babbled, the mixture of Valyrian and Dothraki and Common Tongue he delighted in hearing. It meant he’d succeeded, her brain shutting off to everything but what he was doing to her. His fingers wiggled in under his tongue, sliding through her slickness, stroking in and around her entrance. One hand moving against her while he lapped up her sweetness, her panting and crying of his name music to his ears. A glance up and he could see she had one hand squeezing her tit, the other in his hair, grinding his face to her cunt.</p><p>With his free hand, he pushed is belt aside, freeing his cock from his trousers; he stroked himself briefly, but paused; he didn’t want to come just yet, he had to be inside of her. He was in control here, of course.</p><p>No sooner had he thought that he was in control, did she kick her heel against his shoulder, using the inertia from the car’s movement to force him onto his back again. He cursed, head hitting the floor and arms flying out to catch himself. He glared at her, annoyed; he wanted to make her come, <em>damnit</em>! “That was mine,” he growled, referring to her first orgasm. “I wanted it!”</p><p>“And you’ll get it, but I get yours at the same time,” she hissed. She dug her nails into his throat, pinning him to the floor, legs straddling his chest. She leaned down, her tits brushing over his chest. She murmured over his mouth, sliding her cunt along his abdomen, wetting his skin. He whimpered; <em>gods she was going to kill him one day.</em> “You’re mine Jon Snow.”</p><p><em>Yes, I’m yours and you are mine.</em> He grabbed her hair, holding her mouth on his as she slithered down a little, lifting her hips. With his other hand he reached underneath, lifting his cock, flushed and hard as steel. She wrapped her hand around it, her fist bumping against his, holding him steady as she began to sink onto him. <em>Oh fuck</em>, he thought, groaning, high-pitched and almost a whine. It was a strange mix of painful and pleasurable, relief at finally having her heat engulf him.</p><p>Daenerys Targaryen was literal fire; whenever he sheathed himself inside of her it was as though he were surrounded by it. Smothered with it, even. His head hit back onto the floor, eyes shuttering, a long, low groan of relief emerging from somewhere deep in his lungs. He drew his knees up, his trousers half-on/half-off, and she reached backwards, her hands covering them for leverage as she began to lift up.</p><p><em>Oh my gods I am going to kill her</em>, he thought vaguely, noting her smirking smile. She knew what she was doing, dragging her cunt over him so slowly he could feel every ridge of his cock bump along the smooth walls of her pussy. He grit his teeth and growled, his fingers digging into her hipbones. “Don’t be a bitch,” he warned.</p><p>She made a sound like a giggle, but it turned into a choking sob when he pressed his thumb annoyingly against her clit, her eyes springing open. “Oh you bastard!” she yelped. Her nails dug into his knees, and she moved faster, up and down, her knees bumping against his hips. “Fuck you.”</p><p>“You first babe.”</p><p>They were always trying to be on top, ironically. He was so exhausted from the last two weeks he couldn’t even fight her anymore, lifting his hips in tandem with hers, his cock pulsing inside of her tight sheath, her muscles squeezing around him with every lift and fall. She thrust her chest forward, her tits bouncing tantalizing in front of him. He lurched forward, wrapping his arms tight around her slim body, latching his mouth around one nipple, groaning at the lovely feel of it budding against his tongue.</p><p>She panted in his ear, sweat gathering in the base of her back, his fingers dragging in it and pressing hard in the small of it, encouraging her movements. It was filthy, angry fucking; sometimes that was the best. They could spend hours later on Dragonstone taking the time to explore and tease and love. Right now he had to fuck her to a weeping mess in his arms; he was getting close, he thought, grinning into her tit, as she began to move erratically, now grinding her hips into his rather than bouncing in his lap.</p><p>He anchored his bare feet into the plush carpet of the SUV and using them as extra support, he bucked up into her, his cock bottoming out against the back of her cunt. Her wails grew in intensity, her clit rubbing against his pelvic bone. Her cunt leaked over him and sweat sealed their bodies together, the air in the back of the SUV stuffy and heated. “Fuck Jon,” she managed to whimper. “Oh gods I’m coming.”</p><p>As much as he wanted to speak, he couldn’t. His heart was stuck in his throat, his mouth latched to her neck. He pulled her face to his, groaning and grunting with her, their coupling animalistic and angry. “Come on,” he encouraged, his thumb furiously rubbing at her and his other hand pulling her body to his. They were straining now, every muscle fighting and battling. He breathed into her mouth, grinning. “You won’t let me come first, will you?”</p><p>That did it; the barest hinting to her that she might not <em>win</em> and she tilted her head back, her nails digging half-moons into his shoulders, her orgasm pulling from deep inside of her and rippling out in increasingly strong waves, until they were slamming into him, and he was coming too. A growling roar erupted from him as she clamped on his cock, which twitched and pulsed inside of her, releasing everything that had been bottled up inside of him for two weeks without her.</p><p>He had no idea when it ended. They were still moving, her hips weakly riding him through the rest of their orgasms while he fucked her through hers. Until they both came down, realizing it was over. The waves and waves of pleasure receding, leaving them in dehydrated, exhausted, gasping remnants of their former selves. Jon had no idea where they were; they could have been at the airfield already; they could still be driving; they could have somehow projected themselves into another dimension for all he cared.</p><p>His arms tightened on her, pulling her small body tighter to him and his lips found hers, both of them seeking the other, comforted and needy. Her tongue slid against his, gentle, and slow. His eyes barely opened, just long enough to see her fall backwards off of him, no longer able to hold herself upright, while his arms were lead, falling to his sides as he slumped back to the floor.</p><p>They had slowed now; he could hear sounds around them outside; doors opening and closing. He blinked in the darkness, noting that it seemed brighter now.</p><p>"I think we're here," Dany mumbled, dazed, now flopped on the seat, a tiny little crumple of askew limbs, mussed hair, and half-torn clothing. She peered up, as best she could, to look out the window, bright lights from the airfield slightly blinding as they pulled up to the hanger. She blinked hard and turned, bemused, smiling loopily at him. "Too bad it isn't the jet."</p><p>He really was not sure which way was up; his head kind of hurt. He blinked a few times and noted that he’d lifted his legs up at some point after she’d climbed off him, his feet now on the seat beside her. Perhaps his body did it unconsciously to rush the blood back to his heart; else he’d die. “I guess so,” he croaked. <em>Fuck, how loud had he been?</em> He pulled the energy into his body again and reached down, shimmying into his pants, , fumbling with the belt and sat up, folding at the waist to smirk at her.</p><p>On the seat, she’d pulled some wipes out of her purse and was cleaning herself up as best she could, her hands shaking. He was very pleased in his efforts, if her still dazed expression was any indication. It was, of course, she was most difficult to please. He was very proud of himself.</p><p>They both jumped, before they could speak further, at a sharp, warning rap on the window. "We're here Ms. Targaryen." Thank gods Jorah knew better— as did all her drivers— to just open the door when they were the only ones in the car.</p><p>"Thank you," she called, her previously breathy voice returned to its crisp efficiency. She smirked at him. “Wipe that smile off your face Jon Snow. They’ll know what we were doing back here.”</p><p>“You think Jorah doesn’t already know?” He stifled a yawn. They still had a helicopter ride before he could collapse into their massive bed back at her estate. He finished adjusting himself. The buttons on shirt she’d ripped apart had somehow maintained structural integrity and he could slip a few in to look a bit more presentable. His hair on the other hand would just have to look like a rat’s nest.</p><p>They both smiled and he got up from the floor, sitting beside her, and drew her face towards his, sharing a long, sweet kiss. “I love you,” they both said at the same time. She giggled—that strange girlish little sound only reserved for him—while he only grinned.</p><p>She glanced back at him and then leaned forward, holding her blazer together with her hand as she opened the door, and easily slid down from the back of the Suburban.</p><p>Jorah, to his credit, did not blink at her mussed state, or give any indication he knew what they were doing on the drive over. "Your shoes, Daenerys."</p><p>Jon turned, glancing down to see her heels had flown across the backseat, one wedged between the other cushions. He grabbed for them, passing them over as he hopped out. He gave up on taming his hair, holding his suit jacket on a finger and waiting for Dany to step into her shoes, still holding her blazer closed. He adjusted his stance, shielding her and she gratefully exchanged out her now buttonless top for his, even if it dwarfed her.</p><p>They walked to the chopper, which was waiting, his daughter already strapped in tightly, the headphones over her ears. She waved, loving this part of the trip to Dragonstone. He grinned, waving back to her, and turned to glance at Dany, who was smiling happily. He kissed her lightly, moving across her cheek to whisper into her ear. She turned her face, to hear better, still smiling. "I love my daughter, but once we get to Dragonstone..."</p><p>He was happy to feel her shiver against him; and not from the evening chill. "If that welcome was just the opening act, I am eager to see the rest," she teased, her violet eyes a dark shade of indigo. They gleamed, seductive, beguiling. He could fill a notebook with all the adjectives that meant <em>Daenerys Targaryen.</em> She hooked her finger into his shirt, tugging him closer to her, whispering up into his ear now. "You know of all our games; I have never actually played one that I've been fascinated in partaking."</p><p><em>Oh?</em> They were rather on the adventurous side. He learned more than his fair share—unwillingly, mind—from Robb and the other 'dragons' over the last couple years. He arched a brow, expectant. She waited, clearly, he had to ask. He pursed his lips; their control issues would be the death of them sometimes. Both so stubborn. Well he wasn't going to ask; she would have to wait.</p><p>She narrowed her eyes, scowling. "You aren't going to ask me?"</p><p>"Hmm, surprise me."</p><p>"Well I planned on doing that and already did," she teased. She flicked her fingers at his nose, stepping backwards and sauntering to the chopper, climbing up into it with another cheeky smile in his direction.</p><p>About an hour and a half later, they were settled at Dragonstone, Daenerys's palatial family estate she had purchased back from the people who took it from them when she had been a little girl. She had modernized it significantly, and the tiny little airport which only serviced a couple of regional planes and helicopters wasn't too far. They arrived to find everyone waiting, her cats and his dog Ghost, which delighted Aryanna. His daughter was wound up, deciding to show off her dancing skills she received from the women at the club.</p><p>He shook his head in abject fascination and horror as his six-year old pranced around the cozy living area with a feather boa and a fan, spinning and jumping and using the coffee table as a bit of a stage for some of her routine. It was all Robb's fault, he decided, shooting daggers at his cousin, who had been on his phone a little too long. He glanced at Daenerys, who found it wonderful that Aryanna spent so much time with the women, all of whom were confident and powerful.</p><p>"We should get her dance lessons," she said, rubbing his knee comfortingly.</p><p>He grumbled, but knew it was only a matter of time. Aryanna loved dancing, but he was thinking ballet might be more appropriate. He applauded when she wanted and finally got her off to bed, with the promise they could discuss ballet at another time.</p><p>"Daddy?"</p><p>"Yes baby?"</p><p>"What does Dany do?"</p><p>He paused, glancing at Dany, who was folding up Aryanna's dirty clothes and placing them in the hamper—it was an odd little tick he noticed she had. It grossed him out, but he never said anything. She glanced up, smirking; amused rather than surprised or worried. He wondered how best to explain it to her in a way she could understand without going too far. "Um..." he trailed off. He frowned, sitting on the edge of the bed. He glanced to Dany again, silently begging, eyes wide. She shook her head and took a seat in the overstuffed pink armchair in the corner, which overflowed with stuffed animals. She crossed her legs and arms, waiting for his explanation. He stuttered again. "Um..."</p><p>"Because I think she's a queen." Arry said it so confidently, so matter-of-fact, her little arms crossing over her chest, as if challenging anyone to defy her pronouncement. She looked at Dany, smirking now. "Right?"</p><p>Now it was Dany's turn in the hot seat. She waited a beat, enigmatically smiling, and dropped her head, nodding. "I am. Well, not really, but yes, in a way I am a queen. Just like you are. Just like all the dancers." She got up and joined him on the bed, her arm wrapping around him. She kissed his cheek. "And your daddy is kind of like my prince, but he's also kind of like my assistant too."</p><p>Aryanna grinned. "Really?"</p><p>"Oh yes."</p><p>He chuckled, rolling his eyes; yes, he was a little bit of both. He tapped Aryanna's heart with his finger, voice soft. "Dany helps women and girls be the best they can be. She helps them find homes and food and love and jobs. It's a very big job you know."</p><p>Arry frowned; processing it. "But...but Uncle Robb works for her? Does he do that? Does he help women?"</p><p>"Uh…” He looked to Dany for assistance, but she only grinned, leaving it to him. He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Well, I guess you could say he does.” He closed his eyes briefly. Robb certainly would say he provided women an essential service.</p><p>"Did you do that?"</p><p>He stuttered again; Dany would not help him now. "Sort of...um...Dany helps women..."</p><p>"Feel powerful. Be powerful," she answered.</p><p>"Okay." Aryanna looked up at him, her gray eyes twinkling. "Daddy?"</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>"Are you a dancer for Dany?"</p><p>He was glad he didn't have anything in his mouth, he would have likely spit it out in a comical take. Dany burst into stifled giggles, hitting her forehead to his neck and he closed his eyes, cheeks flaming. He shook his head. "No baby, I'm not a dancer for Dany."</p><p>"Can I be a dancer for Dany?"</p><p>He was going to say, 'no way in hell', but thought better of it. Wasn't that part of his job after all? Wasn't that why he worked for Dany the way he did and worked for her now? He exchanged a look with Dany, who was waiting, her purple eyes shining, amused. He sighed and smiled, nodding again. "You can be whatever you want to be. A dancer, a doctor, a businesswoman, a teacher..."</p><p>"Can I be a dragon?"</p><p>"Yes," they both answered at the same time. He grinned at Dany. He kissed her lightly and then turned to his daughter, nodding, very sure of that. He leaned down and pecked a kiss to her forehead, smoothing her dark curls down on her pillow. "Yes Aryanna, you can be a dragon, a wolf, whatever you want to be, you can be it. I will love you always."</p><p>This did whatever it needed to do, and she nodded again, satisfied, and snuggled into the pillows and blankets, clutching one of her many stuffed wolf toys against her chest. She closed her eyes, sighing happily, and whispering. "I love you Daddy."</p><p>"I love you too," he whispered, his knuckles dragging on her soft cheek.</p><p>They stood up, preparing to leave, his arm around Dany's waist, guiding her towards the door, when Aryanna sighed again, already drifting to sleep, mumbling. "Love you Mommy."</p><p>They both exchanged a worried look, nervous, and in Dany's case, almost fearful. He smiled, his heart leaping in his throat. He kissed the top of Dany's head; she was numb against him. He looked over to Aryanna, who was already asleep, and called softly. "Mommy loves you too."</p><p>The look in Dany's eyes told him all he needed to know regarding her feelings on the matter. She hurriedly moved away from him, her eyes shining, and her cheeks pinking. He made sure the nightlight was on and closed the door to a crack, making his way slowly down the hallway towards where she stood in one of the many large areas on each floor comprising a sitting area to gaze out at the beautiful views from the craggy cliffs. She wiped her cheeks with the side of her hand, which was shaking.</p><p>He silently took it into his palms, folding her little fingers up and lifted them to his lips, kissing lightly. "You want to talk about it?" he murmured, moving into her space. She shook her head, stepping into his, where they met at the same time, heads going to each other. He nodded, understanding. They had plenty of time to talk about it. He let go of her and she wandered away, her bare feet silent on the luxurious carpets and the smooth hardwood floors.</p><p>It left him to gaze out the window, down towards the pool area and the massive terrace, with its infinity pool and outstanding views. There were a couple of little bungalow-like pavilions around a section of the pool, affording privacy should you want it. He frowned at the lights coming from the area and leaned closer to the window, sighing—he shouldn't be surprised so he wouldn't be.</p><p>Robb had finagled Margaery out to visit, along with a woman who looked like Jeyne Westerling, and another woman he couldn't be sure of but might very well have been a doctor from Volantis— he'd had a date with her a couple of times for some gala events—Talisa, maybe? All of them were frolicking around, Robb the center of attention of course. He wanted to go down there and tell them to keep it down, but so long as Robb and his ladies kept their activities to the pool and the poolhouse, Jon wouldn't spoil their fun.</p><p>He was a father, a businessman, and liked to run a tight ship, but hey, he'd been an escort himself. He wasn't going to ruin anyone's evening. Although he was tempted; Robb had thoroughly irritated him that night.</p><p>He smirked, pushing away from the window and meandered down the corridors towards his and Dany's room, which was across the hall from Aryanna, so she couldn't get lost if she needed to find him in the night. Dany's entire suite of rooms took up most of the floor and contained siting areas, dressing rooms, multiple closets, and the biggest bathroom he'd ever seen. It contained a sunken tub that was more like a swimming pool, where he and Dany had spent many fun evenings together.</p><p>"Oh Jon."</p><p>The soft drawl of his voice, raspy, just a hint of seduction, had his ears perking. He fiddled with a few more buttons on his shirt, letting it hang loose and open. He turned, forcing himself not to react to the sight of Daenerys Targaryen standing in nothing more than the black bodysuit and heels she'd been wearing earlier. Before his cousin rudely interrupted their fun. His lips twitched. "Ms. Targaryen," he greeted.</p><p>She sauntered from the door to the bedroom area, hands swaying lightly at her sides. "It seems I am in need of some company this evening," she purred, reaching for the separate sides of his dress shirt. Her fingers fondled the expensive silk. "Perhaps I should request your company."</p><p>"You know I don't do that anymore," he said, playing along with her. He kept his face as cool as he could. "I've gone legitimate. Besides, I was always very firm, no sleeping with the clients."</p><p>Her lower lip protruded dramatically. "Oh no, really?"</p><p>"I'm afraid so ma'am."</p><p>"Well, even with me?" she asked, feigning hurt. Her fingers lightly touched her clavicle, where he could see her pulse rapidly beating just above it, belying her cold dragon lady exterior. "I wonder what your boss would think."</p><p>"Hmm, it was kind of her policy." He looped his arm around her waist, tugging her against him. He leaned over her, husking against her mouth. "But you know even if I did, you can't afford me. I'm very expensive."</p><p>"I think I can."</p><p>"Really?"</p><p>"Hmm, because I own the company."</p><p>It was his turn to feign surprise; he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up their little game. "But Ms. Targaryen! You know it would be wrong of me to sleep with my boss."</p><p>She grinned, yanking him against her. "Well I guess it's good you're not an escort anymore Mr. Snow. Even if you still were, you're the only one for me."</p><p>"And you're the only client for me, he replied, sweeping down to capture her lips with his, lifting her up under the back of her thighs, carrying her off towards the bedroom, where she squealed, laughing with him.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. freeze the fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Just what exactly did it look like when Jon had Dany pressed to that mirror?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you again <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_and_Direwolf/pseuds/Dragon_and_Direwolf">Dragon_and_Direwolf</a> for the wonderful art!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <em>She still vibrated from aftershocks, sensitive and twitching, when he hauled her off the desk and spun her around, pushing her across the office and she felt hard, cold glass underneath her sweat dampened skin, her cunt soaked, and tits flattened to the glass. Her eyes opened, peering down at the club, at the dancers on the stage, the music thudding through the two-way mirror into the room that was otherwise silent save for her gasping breath and his sharp inhales behind her.  He was so hard, he was about to lose control.  She smiled, chuckling low in the back of her throat, grateful she could bring him to that point. She wanted him to lose it, to become feral and angry. To see the fire.  She wanted to taunt him, to remind him she was the one in control, but she couldn't speak quite yet. He took full advantage of it.</em>
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  <em>One hand tightened around her throat, the other on her hip....</em>
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